Space and all her little things
by ladyoftheparasol
Summary: Future/sci-fi setting, space exploration. There is only one thing left to do before leaving Earth. One-shot.


**Space and all her trinkets**

 **Summary: One-shot. America is in love with space.**

 **Characters: America, England, one mention of Russia. Father/son USUK.**

 **Notes: I don't even know what this is. Space was never meant to be personified (in the writing sense, there is no actual space personification in this story, of course) (… it's Hetalia so I had to clarify). It was also supposed to be a 500~ish word drabble, but, uh…**

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His head was always tilted skywards when he was young, and that was perhaps a sign of what was to come. He spent many an afternoon lying in fields, staring at the blue expanse of the sky, reflected back in his eyes. Sometimes he would reach out with his little hands, grasping at something he could see that floated just above the sight lines of others.

He grew older, of course, and his time to himself during the day shrunk as duties called more and more often, so the lazy days spent in sunlight gazing up above disappeared; but he wouldn't be deterred so easily. He turned into a nocturnal creature and fed his hunger now during the night after the sun went down and the world slumbered. He found that the darkened sky offered much more than the daytime one, showering dancing little pinpoints of light all around him. He listened to the stars' garbled messages and took meaning from them, thinking that they were calling for him to fly up above the sky to better hear their voices. They drowned the sounds of Earth out, which had gotten loud and louder as they called for him to get his head out of the clouds and down to the world of men, now that he was no longer a child.

But he scoffed at them. What could the world of men offer him that the expanse beyond the sky could not?

"Nothing," she whispered through her messengers that rode to him from heaven on wind. She, that lady all clad in black that shimmered and dazzled with every fold, universes imprinted on her skin and the clouds of nebulae flowing through her fingertips, had him in the palm of her hand. She was space and he was enamored with her.

Her stars were her choirs and each night he would look up and listen to their singing, muffled as it was, even as the many men who had loved her in their childhood turned away to other mistresses as they grew older. He would stay loyal to her, the ultimate test of faithfulness as she was miles and miles away; and yet, the most rewarding, as she was the most beautiful in his eyes.

And she was his alone. Oh sure, those purple eyes from across the sea lingered on her form from time to time, but they were not as loyal as he was, as now he would finally make his journey out into her embrace personally instead of sending out all those envoys in his name. His people had been to the moon, then to Mars, farther and farther each time, but it had never been Alfred; no, it had always been someone going for America.

The closest he could claim was when his hand brushed hers as he flew in airplanes, higher and higher but never quite there. But now, he would break away from the chains of the atmosphere that separated them and truly reach out and touch her.

He stood outside his vehicle, one of many as they all prepared to be launched into space so he could finally meet the sky in her raw form and explore all her bends and curves and alight on stardust light years away from home.

There was a lump in his throat; he was finally going to meet his bride.

His siblings and cousins and uncles and aunts had been visiting all week to say their goodbyes, snapping all his ties to Earth one by one. And yet, there was still one more person who was keeping him anchored to Earth, and he was perhaps the heaviest of them all.

Footsteps approached.

"Fine day, isn't it?"

And here he was finally; the father sending off his child to the wedding ceremony.

Blue eyes looked to his bride. The sky was peppered with cumulus clouds, as if she were coyly showing off some of her wedding dress. "Yes, yes it is."

The son turned around. "England."

Green eyes waved away formalities. "Alfred."

"Arthur." Alfred gladly conceded.

They stood still regarding each other for a moment. Unlike many, Arthur had never batted the sky an eyelash; he had always loved the sea, the mistress that surrounded him on all sides. The sea had reciprocated him, allowing him to reign over her waves like no other had before, and perhaps like no other ever will. Alfred supposed that the sea was fine; after all, she had partly birthed him.

Arthur broke the silence, "This space exploration project… how long is it going to last again?"

Alfred looked down and fiddled with his uniform. "It's planned to go on for a few centuries. Our main goal is to see if humans can live in space for a few generations. Of course, we're also looking for more habitable planets and…" He looked back at Arthur who was listening to him with an unreadable expression on his face. His sentence trailed off and Arthur spoke.

"And you're going with them?" The question had an accusatory edge to it, thin so that you barely noticed, but sharp so that it stung smartly if you did.

Alfred noticed. "Yes," he replied, forcing a waver out of his voice.

Arthur didn't respond at once; instead he walked over to Alfred's side to take a better look at the space shuttles. Alfred turned around again to spectate with him.

Alfred was the one to break the silence this time. "I'll stay in touch," he tried.

Arthur cast him a wan smile, finally allowing one emotion to surface on his face. "Pity it's not instantaneous. Reminds me of when we had to use ships to carry messages…"

Alfred had no reply, forcing Arthur to pick up the mantle of conversation again. "When do you all leave?"

"This afternoon, at two." It was the middle of morning, ten o' clock, and the sky was smiling softly at her groom.

The two stood in her smile for a little while longer, neither of them willing to utter another word, because there was nothing left to say except goodbye. Seconds ticked past quickly and soon dragged into minutes, the two resolutely standing in silence regarding the lines of shuttles that were to be soon sent up and away, carrying families and couples and every now and then a single traveler that had waved goodbye to old Earth one last time, seeking all the promises hidden in space and her galaxies.

But America would come back one day to see Earth again, because though he liked to fly, fly, and fly, he was also grounded there where his home lay like all other nations, all those wanderers born of the dust of their peoples who traveled to foreign lands to seek others like themselves; but dust they are and to dust they must return and… one day…

There was a reason nations clung to each other as family and not as lovers. Family was a flexible bond that could be broken but repaired over and over again as brothers seeked to forgive their own kin, but passion's flames burned out much too quickly, and once doused with water, were extremely difficult to rekindle. Many nations satisfied their sexual needs with one night stands with nameless humans. It was in their very natures to have no commitments; their peoples changed all too often and to survive, they would change as well. Nations did not mix well with romance.

America knew that despite his fidelity thus far, he would need to end up divorcing the sky and return to his home. It was but a small affair disguised in the grandeur of matrimony.

Thinking that "See you soon" was perhaps the best form of goodbye, he turned to reassure Arthur of his eventual return only to find the man weeping silently, face covered by hands, the only evidence of tears falling being the odd saline droplet that escaped being absorbed by the gloves Arthur so loved wearing. Alfred hesitated before going ahead and putting a hand on Arthur's shoulder, "I will come back, you know. I won't be able to stay away for the whole of the mission. My ship will be one of the first returning."

He thought it was best not to add, "In a century or three."

Arthur brushed the tears away as discreetly as he could, always mortified to be caught crying or showing any form of raw emotion. "You'd better," he tried to growl, though it came out more as a mumble. He pulled Alfred into a hug, surprising the both of them, as the majority of their embraces were usually initiated by the younger man these days. And yet it wasn't that odd; even old England knew that there were moments for times like these.

They released after a few seconds, and Arthur nodded his head, conceding that this moment would come. "Goodbye."

Alfred gave a half-smile. "See you soon."

Arthur half-smiled back, nodding again as he began to walk away. As he began to disappear around the edge of the maintenance building, he flung up his hand in another farewell, suddenly, as if he had forgotten something.

And he had. "Good luck, son."

Alfred smiled, then turned back to tilt his head skywards...

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 **end.**


End file.
